


Hand in Frozen Hand

by CalicoCat



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Snow, Snow Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoCat/pseuds/CalicoCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rare snowfall on the Kiryuin estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand in Frozen Hand

**Author's Note:**

> For [herokick](http://herokick.tumblr.com)

There's a certain light that comes from fresh snowfall; the way it illuminates from below, casting blinding bright whiteness on stucco ceilings. It was a rare sight in the warm air east of the Japanese Alps, in the dark forests of conifers west of Tokyo that surrounded a sprawling estate and the displaced European mansion at its epicenter. A rare sight, then, but not so rare as not to trigger an immediate response in the young woman waking within the confines of an antique four-poster.

_Snow. Finally._

She flung aside the cossetting warmth of the duvet and rolled off the bed, picking her way through cast-off sneakers, sports socks and scattered jeans. The t-shirt she’d pulled on the night before, half-asleep as she stumbled – quietly – from the parlor to her bedroom, was a little too short to be pressed into use as a nightshirt, and the view it afforded as she reached up to throw open the curtains would have drawn some sharp words from her sister. But fortunately for modesty there was no one on the little stone balcony beyond the windows, and no one in the broad gardens themselves.

No one to observe her then, and Ryuko scratched lazily at her crotch in a manner highly unbefitting the second-in-line of a house with a documented history stretching back more than a thousand years. Beyond the patio and the shelter of the house itself, the snow stretched crystalline and perfect out to the trees that marked the boundary of the garden, featureless save for the regular dot-dot-dot where a nocturnal visitor had passed: morse code from a vulpine or feline interloper.

Snowmen and snowball fights… Ryuko cursed for a moment that Mako was still in Kanagawa, and wondered how long it would take her to make the journey to the estate. Would the snow lead to chaos, as she’d heard it sometimes did in the uncivilized countries in the west, or would it be cleared with customary efficiency, solely a frosty diversion as the _shinkansen_ sped from station to station? No matter – there was still someone to enjoy the winter scene with, however, and she pulled on shirt and jeans, thick socks and a jumper, dressing with scruffy haste before hurrying out of her room and pounding on the door opposite.

“Satsuki! It snowed! Get your ass out of bed!”

She hammered a few more times for good measure, and was about to shout again when a voice, quiet but perfectly clear, drifted up from the ground floor.

“You will find me downstairs already, Ryuko.”

She was halfway down the corridor before the final syllable reached her, and rather than waste valuable seconds traversing the waxed, dark wood of the staircase, Ryuko simply vaulted the bannisters, allowing one hand upon them to slow her descent as she tumbled like a gymnast, landing in the entrance hall with uncharacteristic poise: a perfect 10.0. For a second she took in the silent ovation of the appreciative crowd before charging down the narrow corridor to the kitchen.

“Get your kit on, Sis, we’re going…”

The vision in white at the breakfast table looked round slightly, a single dropped-spindle eyebrow rising in quiet curiosity as she lifted a mug of steaming tea. Satsuki was already dressed for arctic warfare: stout boots, warm moleskin trousers, a white cashmere coat in a decidedly martial style, the whole ensemble completed by the unusual, but wholly sensible, addition of a pair of furry blue earmuffs. She took a sip of tea and set the mug back down on the table.

“You are not to step foot outside until I see you dressed appropriately for the conditions.”

A slight glance was sufficient to indicate the pile of clothes stacked neatly on the counter: a puffy jacket, thick trousers, skiing gloves, a long woolen scarf that Ryuko was sure she’d seen Soroi wearing once, and a pair of earmuffs, matching and contrasting in red.

The outfit was warm, certainly, but lacking in any style or credibility, and Ryuko pulled a face.

“Siiiiiis…”

“ _Not_ until you are dressed appropriately.”

* * *

 

The snow was frozen perfection and crackled with each footstep as the sisters walked across the lawn.

Ryuko was still shaking snow from her hair where the snowball she’d pitched at Satsuki had been returned with villainous accuracy. It stung a little, but that was OK: she’d already resolved to get behind her sister – relying on her unnatural advantages if necessary – and shove snow deep down the neck of her coat and jumper. It was just a matter of timing.

“Hey Sis! Ever made snow angels?”

Satsuki did the little shake of the head, the one which was somewhere between embarrassment and haughtiness, but her mouth was curled in a half smile, and that, Ryuko knew, was the signature of lurking curiosity. So she spread her arms and let herself fall backwards, gently, into the snow, then swept them and her legs to and fro until the figure was complete.

“Whaddya think?”

Ryuko pushed herself up into a seated position, mindful not to disturb her creation.

“A messenger from the heavens… fascinating. Akin to the communications in crop circles, no doubt.”

“You and your ancient aliens, Sis…” But Ryuko was already up and running further into the garden, towards a field of pristine white. “Come over here where there’s more space to make 'em.” The surface here was smooth and perfectly flat, even more so than the area she’d come from; Ryuko turned back towards Satsuki and let herself begin to fall.

“No Ryuko! Not there!”

She felt the snow touch her hair, the back of her neck; she waited for the slow arrest but instead of a soft landing she heard the crack and then banshee shriek of splintering ice, and Ryuko crashed through the frozen surface into the hidden waters of the ornamental lake.

* * *

 

“F-f-f-f-freezing c-c-c-c-c-cold.”

Ryuko’s teeth chattered in the staccato of a machine-gun emplacement, and Satsuki pulled the blankets tighter around her.

“Surely no colder than being in space.”

She wanted to look back at her sister with disapproval, but the muscles of her neck still seemed to be set in stone, so Ryuko gave up and tried only to relax a little more.

“Was d-d-d-d-d-different. Wearing Senk-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-ketsu.”

There was a response to that, something about the insulating qualities of an outfit that wouldn’t even have made tropical beachwear, but Satsuki thought better of it.

“Do you want more blankets?”

“Not-t-t blank-k-k-kets. Brand-d-d-dy”

“No alcohol. Not while you’re still this cold. You can have some warm tea if you like.” Satsuki began to disentangle her arms and legs from where they were wrapped around the shivering Ryuko cocoon.

“N-n-no. St-t-t-tay.”

A small shrug, but Satsuki pulled her sister close into her again.

“I would have thought the life fibers would help you deal with this.”

“Too c-c-c-c-cold. Can’t cont-t-t-trol them.”

“Hmm. Not always so useful then.” The small shrug again, but then a little mischievous smile.

“‘Warm wash only.’”

“Ver-r-ry fun-n-n-n-ny.”

“You’re not going to wrinkle, are you? I’m not sure I can spread you on the ironing board.”

Ryuko began coughing furiously, so Satsuki relented and rested back against the couch, pulling her sister with her, and checking the temperature of her forehead with the back of her palm. Through the tall windows of the parlor she could still see the white of snow in the garden, a cloudless sky of faultless blue, and in the fireplace black logs as they charred and split, and the red, yellows and oranges of the warming fire. The outside was her domain then, just as inside, by the fire, was Ryuko’s.

“Why’d-d-d you t-t-t-take so long-g with th-the logs?”

“…”

“S-s-sis?”

Satsuki started a little, as though someone had just shaken her from a dream.

“Oh… I was just admiring your earlier handiwork. The non-aquatic version.”

A sharp pinch would have been an appropriate response, at the very least, but Ryuko’s limbs were tightly bound up in the warming fug of the blankets, and she could only listen as Satsuki continued.

“One might say that a snow angel is an interesting juxtaposition of Judeo-Christian elements with earlier animist or nature-worship schema.”

Ryuko would have rolled her eyes, but for the moment they felt frozen in place.

“Somet-t-times b-brainy t-t-takes all the j-j-joy out-t of Christ-t-t-mas.”

“My apologies.” Not that Ryuko could see it, but Satsuki’s response came with a full smile of genuine warmth. “But on that subject… I never asked you what you would like for Christmas.”

Ryuko pushed herself against her sister, sure in defiance of all likelihood that she could feel her warmth through the multiple layers of wool that surrounded her. Satsuki closed her eyes and, for a moment until the after-image faded, enjoyed the inversion of the colors of the fire as they became her regalia.

“K-k-keep me warm, S-sis.”

It was an answer, or it was a request, and perhaps it was both.

* * *

 

The thaw came a day or so later, an unusual end of year warmth that had the populace exchanging boots and coats for light shoes and jackets, and which dissolved the delightful whiteness into slushy browns and greys that piled up on the pavements and beside the roadways. In the gardens of the mansion the snow where Ryuko had lain had been compacted into ice, however, and her design persisted, as persistent as its maker, still crystalline white as millimeter-perfect green sward appeared around it. And next to it, marked with surprising precision, a second heavenly messenger remained, an inch or so taller, and close enough that the tips of their wings touched.

Perhaps you would even think them holding hands.

* * *

 

_Field and mountains,_  
 _All taken by the snow;_  
 _Nothing remains._

\- Jōsō

 


End file.
